


We'll Take a Cup (defense) of Kindness

by WelpThisIsHappening



Series: Tripping Over the Blue Line [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelpThisIsHappening/pseuds/WelpThisIsHappening
Summary: It's one night. New Year's Eve. And a whole list of rules. Because Regina might have actually lost her mind. Or maybe that's just Emma. Because they've played a million games in two days, or it's at least felt that way, and planning an outdoor practice a few weeks before the Olympics seemed like a good idea at one point. Now it just seems insane. So she's going to wear this dress and kiss her boyfriend. A lot.He's good. Better than good. Great. The greatest. It's New Year's Day and, yeah, sure it's freezing, but Killian hasn't actually tried to push Scarlet on the Subway tracks yet so that seems like a step in the right direction. So he's a little distracted a few weeks before the Olympics, but that's fine. It's good. Or it'll be good. Eventually. Soon. In the meantime he's probably just going to kiss his girlfriend. A lot.





	1. Chapter 1

“You realize this invitation was grammatically incorrect.”

Emma glanced in the mirror, smile tugging on the sides of her mouth when she heard Killian hum in confusion and it wasn't the first time she’d pointed out that the invitation they’d received was, in fact, grammatically incorrect.

The door to the bathroom was still closed – because she was fairly certain she was going to rip her hair out eventually if it didn't decide to stay in this _updo thing_ that she’d been trying to accomplish for the better part of the last forty-five minutes and she’d really rather not have Killian witness that – but she could hear him pacing and she wasn't entirely sure how he was still standing.

It had been a month, in a bolded and italicized sort of way, a string of games that included more overtime than any team should play in one season, let alone a few weeks, and they’d only just wrapped up a six-game-in-nine-days-streak that was equal parts exhausting and exciting.

They won five of six games.

They won the night before.

In a shootout.

On the road.

And the Prudential Center wasn’t really far away – 36 minutes on I-95, or so Google maps told her the night before, but that was a lie because I-95 was some kind of parking lot masquerading as a highway no matter what time it was and it took nearly an hour and a half to get back uptown and they’d gotten, approximately, four hours of sleep.

Add in a Christmas Eve and Christmas Day extravaganza at the brownstone the week before – painfully adorable kids, and an air hockey title to defend and a bread pudding that, this year, wasn’t quite as bad as the first time around – and it was some sort of medical marvel that any of them could even form coherent sentences.

They’d gotten, maybe, twenty hours of sleep in the last week.

Emma could barely lift her arms up anymore. This updo was way more work than it was worth. And she probably should have asked Mary Margaret for help.

“Scarlet isn’t going to shut up about his goal,” Killian grumbled, brushing right past Emma’s issues with the grammar of the invitation that was sitting somewhere in their apartment. “If I punch him at some point, do you think that’ll go against the rules we’ve been given?”

Emma laughed, closing her eyes lightly and that was a dangerous game because she wasn’t sure she was beyond just falling asleep on her feet.

It would be an actual miracle if any of them made it to midnight.

And it didn’t really matter anyway – the invitation told them they needed to be out of...wherever they were going at one o’clock.

She was kind of grateful for that rule. She didn’t need half-asleep hockey players on the ice for her New Year’s Day event in Central Park. If any of them got hurt before the Olympics, the entire league was probably just going to rain down literal hellfire on the entire island of Manhattan.

“Swan,” Killian called, knocking lightly on the bathroom door and her eyes snapped open. “I’m almost being entirely serious about punching Scarlet in the face. Your lack of response is concerning.”

“Yeah, well, you’re ignoring my grammar concerns, so quid pro quo or whatever.”  
  
He made a noise, something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a yawn and it might have been the most endearing thing she’d ever heard. They were exhausted and there were a questionable number of games, but they kept winning and there was a metaphor in there that made Emma’s pulse pick up.

“I’ve listened to all of your grammar concerns, love,” Killian promised, the bed creaking slightly when he, presumably, dropped onto the edge.

She hoped he’d tied his own tie. She wasn’t sure she had the mental faculties to tie it without inadvertently choking him.

“And,” Emma prompted. She pursed her lips, staring into the mirror like that was going to change something, but her lips still looked incredibly red and, well, maybe she looked pretty good.

All things considered.

God, she was tired. And she needed Merida to answer her text messages about the event in Central Park on New Year’s Day.

Planning an event in Central Park on New Year’s Day was, suddenly, looking like the worst idea in the history of the entire world.

Emma just wanted to sleep.

“And,” Killian echoed, grunting softly when it sounded like he was trying to force his heel through his shoes. “I still don’t think you should mention that to Gina. Or Robin. Or anyone with a Locksley-Mills in their last name.”  
  
“Is that the right order?”  
  
Killian made another noise, probably shrugging and this whole conversation likely would have been easier if the door was open. Or if Emma wasn’t trying to avoid stabbing herself in the eye with her own mascara wand.

“Depends on who you ask, I suppose,” he laughed. “Isn’t that what the invitation said?”  
  
Emma shrugged, well aware he couldn’t actually see her and the cut of her dress left her ring hanging over fabric, twisting just out of her eyeline and it felt a little bit like a flashing, neon sign. She wasn’t sure what for, but it was there. “I was way more concerned with the grammar of the invitation to care about the order of last names,” she admitted. “You can’t have a _first annual_ anything. That doesn’t make sense. Also it’s a very long name. Way too wordy.”  
  
“To be fair, I’d put some fairly good money on the assumption that either Henry or Rol came up with the name of the event.”  
  
Emma’s eyes flashed, like she was trying to look through the back of her head and out the door and the words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying. “You want to put an actual bet on that?” she asked.

“You want to bet about a New Year’s Eve party?”

“It was your idea! And I’m telling you first annual cannot be a thing! It doesn’t make any sense. You’ve got to have something happen at least once before it can be annual. This should be the first-ever Mills-Locksley fancy dress competition.”  
  
“Or the other way around, depending on who you ask,” Killian added and she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling because the whole thing was so absurd and so _this team_ in some kind of ridiculous way that she was surprised this was the first time anyone had suggested something like it.

“Have you memorized the invitation?”

Killian clicked his tongue, but that was an answer and it was difficult to fine-tune wingtip eyeliner when she was so busy swooning in her own bathroom.

The invitation landed on Emma’s desk just before the stretch of games, a small stack of cardstock that probably cost a questionable amount of money and was actually tied with a gold ribbon. Scarlet laughed about it for what felt like several hours in the restaurant after the win against the Stars and Emma was actually concerned Regina was trying to turn him to stone with the force of her glare.

He stopped laughing when Robin smacked the side of his shoulder and demanded he _read the rules because they’re all for you anyway_.

That, however, was a lie.

_The First Annual Mills-Locksley Fancy Dress Competition and New Year’s Eve Party. Or the other way around depending on who you ask_ was slated to be held at a very fancy loft that, probably, cost more than the invitations and required several different rules for everyone on the Rangers roster:

  1. You must arrive downtown no later than 7:30. This rule is for you Cap, don’t be late.
  2. You must be wearing an outfit that would be acceptable at the NHL Awards or Casino Night. No t-shirts. No team-branded.
  3. There will be awards for things, but don’t make this weird Scarlet.
  4. You are encouraged to bring your own alcohol.
  5. You are _required_ to bring your own alcohol.
  6. You are not allowed to talk point totals, standings, Cup defense, or, at any point during the night, start teaching Henry and Rol how to check. Seriously, Scarlet, no.
  7. We will all pretend like any of us have interests outside the aforementioned non-discussable points.
  8. You will leave by one in the morning because you have to be on the ice in Central Park on New Year’s Day.



“I’m honestly surprised there are only eight rules,” Killian said. “That seems a little low for Gina standards, doesn’t it?”  
  
Emma twisted her hair over her shoulder, pressing up on her toes in a misplaced attempt to try and get used to the idea of whatever heels she was going to have to wear all night. It didn’t work. It just hurt her calves.

“Yeah, you want to tell her that?” she asked and she really needed to open the door. They were totally going to be late.

“Of course not.”  
  
She smiled, body falling forward slightly with the force of her laugh and she was glad there was a sink there because her hands fell on whatever the sink was made of, glancing at her reflection and hoping that the lighting in whatever fancy downtown loft they were going to would help hide the bags under her eyes.

There was a sound on the other side of the door – something that sounded suspiciously like a shoulder colliding with wood – and she had to jump back when she twisted the handle, Killian nearly falling forward when there wasn’t anything to brace his body against anymore.

“God,” Emma groaned, but she was still smiling and maybe her exclamation wasn’t so much about the professional hockey player falling towards her and more because the professional hockey player she was _living with_ looked so goddamn good in his suit. “What were you doing?”  
  
He hadn’t actually tied his tie.

And the suit was blue or _navy_ or whatever, with a white shirt underneath and it did something stupid to the color of his eyes, made them sharper or more obvious, and it all looked incredible and wasn’t quite the same as the one he’d worn to the season opener last year and he must have ordered something too.

They were never going to leave their apartment.

“Waiting to hear the terms of your bet,” Killian said, but his eyes didn’t meet hers and Emma bit her lips when she realized his gaze was trailing across her dress and the ring hanging from her neck.

The ends of his lips quirked up when he glanced back up at her and she’d never been to prom, but this kind of felt like that.

“Swan,” he breathed, taking a step towards her until he was in her space, a hand landing on her hip. The dress was black and vaguely festive and maybe Emma was a not-so-secret, enormous sap because she hoped it called up memories and feelings and something about new starts with new contracts and a new apartment and a new win streak, but she wasn’t ever going to say any of those things out loud.

It absolutely did not matter.

He totally knew.

“Something wrong, Cap?” Emma asked, tilting her head slightly and his eyes got bluer or more intense or something else that definitely was not possible, but it was difficult to think about any of those things when his hand tightened.

Killian shook his head slowly, lips pressed together and maybe if Emma just spent most of the night blushing, that would help mask the distinct look of exhaustion she was fairly positive was just sitting on her shoulders at this point.

“Absolutely nothing,” he said softly. “The opposite in fact. Swan, you look….”  
  
“I know.”

Emma smiled, a rush of something that felt distinctly like confidence shooting down her spine and maybe they could leave whatever downtown loft they were already supposed to be on their way to early – so she could spend most of the night kissing her boyfriend. And getting her boyfriend out of the suit that fit incredibly well.

She tugged on the front of his jacket and he hadn’t managed to actually finish getting dressed, but there were lapels and he moved when she pulled like there were magnets involved somehow.

Killian ducked his head, dragging his lips against the side of her neck that wasn’t covered with her hair and maybe she should have worked more on the whole updo thing if that was something that was going to happen. She wasn’t sure when she’d pushed up on her toes again, only aware of height differences when she dropped back on her heels, and Emma laughed when he made some kind of absurd noise in the back of her throat as soon as she moved.

“This is going to be incredibly distracting,” Killian mumbled, mouth moving down to her collarbone instead and they were all a very violent group because she was going to punch him if he left a mark.

“Which part?” Emma asked. She hadn’t let go of his jacket yet, one hand still twisted up with fabric and the other arm slung around his neck and she suddenly realized she was bent back slightly, precariously close to the sink and they couldn’t just start making out in the bathroom.

Again.

They’d been in the apartment for nearly five months and half a season and while there were almost always games and events and things to plan for, there were also moments that seemed to make everything else worth it – a space that was theirs in some sort of way that nothing had ever really been and Emma was, clearly, losing her grip on her own sentimentality.

His laugh was warm on her skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake and that only led to more laughter and a circle of flirting that probably wouldn’t ever end because Emma was so goddamn happy it still made her head spin just a bit.

“Any of it,” Killian admitted. “When did you even get this?”  
  
Emma shrugged, or at least tried to shrug and it only left her nearly elbowing him in the chest. He nipped behind her ear in retaliation. “Jeez, you are a menace,” she said, doing her best to sound as frustrated as she absolutely was not.

She felt like...she was on fire or something and that didn’t make any sense at all because they lived together, for God’s sake.

She grumbled about his penchant for trying to organize her boots by the front door and he couldn’t really stand that she refused to put her toothbrush in the toothbrush container, but he’d also been the first one to promise the Central Park idea was _fantastic_ and Emma was fairly certain her heart actually stopped when he went through concussion protocol in November.

And they’d already made out in their own bathroom. More than once. That felt like a sign.

For something...permanent.

She wasn’t thinking that. At all. No.

Emma was happy as they were with their boots and their toothbrushes and two bedrooms and so what if Ruth asked about the ring around her neck at Thanksgiving and then proceeded to question the potential for other rings and other plans and Emma’s stomach had jumped into her throat and Mary Margaret stared at her like some kind of ticking time bomb waiting to go off in the middle of the restaurant.

She hadn’t – until Killian got hit up against the boards by some asshole in Arizona and missed the whole third period and Emma nearly dislocated her thumb slamming her phone screen in an attempt to figure out what was going on.

It was fine.

They were fine. She was just tired.

Killian was still moving his mouth against her jaw, fingers doing something decidedly unfair on the fabric of her dress and they’d moved without her realizing it, Emma stumbling over her own feet when he walked them out of the bathroom.

“Were you really being serious about the Scarlet thing?” Emma asked, mind not entirely in her control anymore and that might have been for the best considering what she’d been thinking about. “Because that’s going to make tomorrow weird if you’re punching him tonight.”

Killian hummed and she could feel the hint of a smile on his mouth when he dropped back to the curve of her shoulder. “I honestly can’t remember anything before seeing you in this dress,” he muttered and it was, easily, the worst line she’d ever heard.

It absolutely worked.

“Almost heavy-handed, don’t you think?” Emma asked, hoping the vaguely sarcastic laugh in her voice would mask whatever it was several different internal organs did at the way his hand kept moving like he was trying to trace her for posterity.

“And,” she added. “There’s this new fangled thing called the internet, which makes it almost too easy to buy things on car rides from the Garden back home.”

Emma pulled back slightly, twisting her eyebrows in a feeble attempt to imitate Killian and she wasn’t entirely prepared for the lock on his face – like he was stunned or awed or a mixture of both and neither one of them was helping her mind stay in the present.

God.

She needed to go over the party rules again.

They needed to get out of their apartment.

“What?” Emma asked cautiously, her back protesting at the arch she was in. Killian’s hand moved, wrapping around her waist and tugging her back up and one of them made some kind of absurd noise when they practically crashed into each other, but she was far too busy kissing him back to be too worried about anything else.

Her eyes fluttered shut when she felt him tilt his head and it would surprise her if they were even allowed into the loft. They probably looked like they’d spent the last five minutes making out in several different rooms.

Emma’s fingers scraped over the back of his neck, drawing a sound out of him that was some sort of ridiculous ego boost and she ignored the stretch in her calves, pushing back up on her toes to reach him better, a mess of lips and tongue and hands everywhere.

If he had a tie, she would have tugged it.

“We need to work on your media training,” Emma mumbled, mostly against his mouth because she couldn't quite bring herself to pull away again. “That wasn’t even close to an appropriate answer. That was a non-answer.”  
  
He grinned at her – or at least she thought he did, was fairly certain his lips moved against hers, but that might have just been an attempt at more kissing. “I’m not sure that’s an actual term, Swan,” Killian said. It was definitely a smile.

“We could bet on that too if you want.”  
  
He laughed, burrowing his head into the crook of her shoulder and she wasn’t even really touching the ground anymore, supported by his arm and several different emotions that were determined to get her to think about things in big, future type ways.

“That’s cheating,” he countered. “You’ll ask Lucas and she’ll side with you by default. Also, I already know that I’m going to win whatever the terms of the first bet were so I don’t want to threaten that victory.”  
  
“You’re win obsessed.”  
  
“When they’re guaranteed.”  
  
Emma rolled her eyes, but the emotions were still there and, possibly, growing or mutating or something. “Seems awfully confident,” she muttered. “And you can’t just attack makeout once we get downtown.”  
  
“We could just...not go downtown.”  
  
“We can’t do that.”  
  
“Sure we can. We’re already going to be late. That was rule number one. There’s almost no point in going now. Plus, we’re both lacking on sleep. We stay here. We discuss this dress some more and then...we sleep after we don’t sleep. And then we’re all prepared for tomorrow.”

“I think you’re trying to use my own event against me.”  
  
“I wouldn’t do that, love,” he grinned and she wasn’t sure if he licked his lips to try and prove his point or because of some unconscious thing, but she’d probably think about it for far longer than she should.  
  
“Literally two seconds ago you were talking about terms of a bet that would require you to go downtown,” Emma argued, not entirely sure what she was arguing since most of her wanted to stay in the apartment as well, but she was also kind of competitive and she wanted to win the bet and maybe show off the dress.

If there were awards, she kind of wanted to win.

Maybe the rules should have called her out too.

“Ah, semantics,” Killian said, waving his free hand through the air. “Don’t you kind of want to blow off the prom, Swan?”

She felt her eyebrows fly up her forehead and he _knew_ – she had no idea how he knew, but he did and the quirk of his mouth when he realized she knew that he knew or _whatever_ was, easily, the most attractive thing she’d ever seen in her life.

So, naturally, Emma swatted at his shoulder.

“What?” Killian asked knowingly and she just widened her eyes until the smirk turned into something a bit more genuine. “It feels a little bit like prom, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I was kind of busy being a ward of the state and avoiding most of the high school to go to prom.”

Most of Midtown was closed because of the day and balls dropping and people who had, likely, been standing outside for hours already, but Emma kind of felt like she was standing in the middle of Times Square anyway – the force of Killian’s smile equal to several different lit-up billboards and Broadway marquees.

“Exactly,” he said and they were walking again, his fingers finding hers to tug her back towards the front of the apartment and the kitchen and he left his tie on the bed.

She nearly fell four more times down the hallway and they really did have a questionable amount of square footage for two people. “You’re going to pull my arm out of the socket,” Emma muttered, voice just a bit more breathless than she was hoping for when she skidded to a stop just on the edge of the kitchen floor.

And she absolutely did not expect him to open the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” she asked and she was going to have to redo her lipstick. She’d have to do it in the car. It was already after seven.

Killian glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows twisted and amusement practically rolling off him and he had something in his hand. Emma took a step forward, careful not to trip over her dress or run into the Conn Smythe sitting on the counter and he beamed at her when he held the plastic container out in front of him.

“For you,” he said, twisting his wrist slightly and she hadn’t really been holding her breath, but she exhaled loudly anyway, a mess of romance and feeling and wannabe prom on New Year’s Eve.

It was a goddamn corsage.

Of course it was.

“When did you even have time?” Emma asked, whispering out the words and reaching her hand forward to trail her fingers over the plastic like it was actually gold or filled with jewels instead of a few roses that seemed to match her outfit perfectly.

“You’re the one who was telling me about the internet, love. Although I would like to add in the ability of the internet to contact other people in order to deliver things, making it all a bit easier for those of us who had to be on the ice at ten o’clock this morning.”

“You were just mad you couldn’t check Scarlet in practice.”  
  
Killian made a dismissive noise, an agreement without actually agreeing to the words, and Emma glanced up, doing her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions and sentiment and she hoped there was a lot of champagne that night.

“He’s going to talk about that juke he made all night,” Killian grumbled, flipping up one of the plastic tabs and for someone who was clearly frustrated by the schedule and the team and the rules, he managed to be almost delicate when picking up the corsage.

It did something absurd to Emma’s heart.

“That’s because it was a good move,” Emma said and she hoped her hand didn’t shake when he slipped the flowers over her wrist. That would have been embarrassing. “I mean...not the move you made, but a good move. And, technically, the game-winner.”  
  
Killian’s shoulders shifted when he laughed, eyes darting up towards Emma before falling back on her wrist and her left hand and it was _all_ just a little heavy-handed, but she hadn’t been able to get Ruth’s questions out of her mind entirely in the last few weeks.  

“Nice save,” he murmured, tugging her hand up to brush his lips over her knuckles and that felt like eighty-two jukes in front of the net and several different shootout victories and a direct line to winning the President’s Trophy. “We’re really going to be late though.”  
  
“Worth it. Maybe.”  
  
“Maybe?”  
  
“Can’t inflate that ego too much.”

He flashed her another smile, lacing his fingers through his and her heels were by the front door. He absolutely was not going to wear a tie. Or, apparently, stop surprising her. “You know,” Killian continued, doing his best to shrug into a jacket without actually letting go of her hand. “I never went to prom either.”  
  
“What?” Emma asked and he shrugged slightly, tugging her own jacket off the peg next to the door and she tried not to flatten the flowers on her wrist. “How is that even possible?”  
  
“Was that a compliment, Swan?”  
  
“Have you seen yourself?”  
  
He barked out a laugh, head thrown back and body shaking slightly and Emma wasn’t entirely sure she’d actually grabbed her phone. They were a New Year’s Eve disaster. “Oh shit,” Emma mumbled and Killian’s eyebrows were going to sustain permanent damage if he kept moving them that much. “We didn’t get any alcohol.”  
  
Killian was still laughing when he kissed her, easy and certain and he’d bought her _roses, God_ and all she could do was shout obscenities and question why there wasn’t a line to the brownstone door with teenage girls wanting to ask him to the prom.

A New Year’s Eve disaster.

“This whole thing is absurd,” he said, like that was that and it kind of was and Scarlet was totally going to make the awards thing weird. “C’mon, love, the sooner we get downtown, the sooner we can leave.”

It took them a small eternity to get downtown and Killian grumbled about that for most of the ride, several pointed opinions as to Regina’s event planning skills and ability to make this as difficult as possible for everyone involved and he wasn’t impressed when Emma pointed out that the Mills-Locksley family, or the other way around depending on who you asked, lived four blocks away from the event space just off Union Square.

“It’s the principle of the thing, Swan,” Killian said, not for the first time, when the car came to a stop in front of a brick building with fairy lights in the plants outside and she rolled her eyes when he held out his hand expectantly for her.

“Yeah, so you’ve mentioned. How late are we, exactly?”  
  
“It’s after eight.”  
  
“Jeez.”  
  
It didn’t really surprise her that they were immediately met with voices and shouts, but she jumped slightly anyway, Killian kissing the top of her head when they walked towards the questionably large doors of the building.

Liam was leaning against the wall just inside the lobby, a burgundy tie that looked suspiciously similar to Minnesota colors and his feet crossed at the ankles and he just lifted his eyebrows when they walked inside, a silent judgement about their arrival that was louder than anything else he could have actually said.

“This is just ostentatious,” Killian muttered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and nodding in Liam’s direction. “Are you...waiting for us out here?”  
  
Liam rolled his eyes hard enough that Emma was momentarily worried they were going to freeze that way and the Vankald-Jones stayed in New York longer than last year, invited to the prom or the party or whatever it was – and there was some college tournament happening at the Garden when three of the Rangers six road games happened.

And the Vankalds were incredibly doting grandparents who, when presented with a brand-new grandchild and a first Christmas, seemed to rise to an occasion only previously reached in fairytales and made-for-TV movies.

“Drew the short straw,” Liam muttered, crossing his arms and it was definitely a Minnesota tie. “How come you’re not dressed up? You look nice, Emma.”  
  
Killian lifted his free hand, waving across his body like that was an answer and it was freezing in that lobby. “Thanks,” she laughed. “Nice tie.”  
  
“Where did you even find that?” Killian asked, leaning them both forward to try and tug on the fabric, but Liam just swatted his hand away.

“Get out of here. This is a perfectly acceptable tie. Which you aren’t wearing. You just out to break every single rule tonight or…”  
  
“Shut up. I feel like there should be a gopher on this tie or something. Oh, no, it’d be better with gold stripes. What color is El’s dress? Is she wearing gold up there?”  
  
Liam narrowed his eyes, an unamused look on his face. “You are wearing Rangers blue. You weren’t supposed to wear team-branded. Every, single rule Killian.”

He froze, eyes darting towards Emma and she groaned loudly, her whole body sagging slightly when she realized Liam was right – they were all red and blue, some kind of abstract version of a home uniform that would probably draw several minutes worth of laughter out of Scarlet when they, finally, got out of that lobby.

“Why’d they send you down here?” Killian asked, but there was an edge to his voice that probably didn’t belong in the question. Emma widened her eyes. Liam didn’t blink.

“We were fairly certain you were just going to blow it off,” he shrugged. “I had some confidence that you weren’t a total ass, so I didn’t argue my aforementioned short straw too much. Plus, Gina making us all schlep down here on New Year’s Eve is just cruel and unusual.”

Emma groaned again, but Killian let out some kind of sound that was a mix between a _whoop_ and just general victory and she was shaking her head when he mumbled _I told you, Swan_ in her ear.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, pulling on Killian’s jacket and ignoring whatever it was Liam was doing with his face. As if he knew something. Some reason that they would blow off a New Year’s Eve party with the entire team and fancy dresses. Killian kept staring at him. “So,” Emma continued slowly, dragging out the word and both Jones brothers nearly dislocated something in their determination to listen to her. “We going to go upstairs or nah?”

“Sure,” Killian said brusquely and Liam’s face did something else, gaze flitting down towards Emma’s arm at her side.

She tried not to ask more questions.

The room was, as expected, filled with most of the New York Rangers roster and front office, all of them spinning on the spot when Liam shouted he’d _found them, finally_ and Emma was fairly sure she hadn’t imagined Killian’s arm tightening.

“What the hell, Cap?” Robin yelled, marching across the room with what actually appeared to be a top hat on. “Where’s your tie?”  
  
Killian rolled his whole head in response. “Somewhere at home. Probably next to Swan’s phone.”  
  
“Em,” Ruby called, but the name came out a bit like a growl when she dodged between actual uniform-wearing waiters touting appetizers and pre-dinner spritzers. She had to use Robin to stop, slamming into his back with an over exaggerated _oof_ and she was was wearing a tuxedo, dressed in head to toe black that probably matched Dor’s outfit. With a bow tie. “Did you really not bring your phone? Is that why you weren’t answering?”  
  
“We were running late,” Emma explained. “We didn’t want to break all the rules.”

And it was clearly a mistake because she could hear Scarlet cackling from the other side of the room, Roland barely visible when he sprinted towards Killian launching himself up with a not-so-quiet _Hook_ that drew the attention of the entire wait staff.  

Killian groaned when a dress shoe collided with his thigh, but he barely even moved when Roland worked his way over his shoulder and Robin mumbled something under his breath about _playing favorites_. Will was still laughing at them by the time he worked his way across the room.

He had two drinks in one hand.

“What the hell, Scarlet?” Killian asked, rolling one shoulder to try and even out Roland’s weight.

“Where you been, Cap?” Will grinned and he was already making the awards thing weird because his suit wasn’t so much a suit as it was a tuxedo with tails and a tie that was closer to metallic than any other adjective Emma could think of. “Where’s your tie?”  
  
“What is everyone’s obsession with ties? I am not wearing a tie if it is not a league-mandated requirement or league-sponsored event.”  
  
“Jeez, bah humbug. You need a drink, Cap?”

“Where did you even get a tuxedo like that?” Killian continued, nodding towards the jacket and Will looked like he was ready to actually spin on the spot. “Why is any of this happening?”  
  
Roland was still hanging upside down and it was only a matter of time before Regina realized that, but Will had his phone out and was tapping his thumb on the screen. “For the likes, obviously, Cap,” he said and Robin rolled his eyes. “Give the people what they want. You know how many followers I’ve got now? A shit ton. Sorry, Rol.”

“You are the least mature person to ever play professional hockey, you know that?”  
  
“I think you’re jealous of my social media following and my ability to promo this team. I mean, Lucas totally is.”

“You’re insane. And that tux is ridiculous.”

Emma did her best to swallow back her laugh. “Just as an aside,” she added. “If you guys check each other in front of the crowd at Central Park tomorrow. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“That makes two of us,” another voice yelled, someone that dimly sounded like Arthur, but also sounded a little bit drunk and Emma gaped at Killian. He shook his head.

“I’m not going to check Scarlet tomorrow,” he promised. “I just want to know where he got that outfit and why we decided to have some kind of fake prom on New Year’s when we could have just stayed at home.”  
  
Ruby snickered, shaking her hair off her shoulders and nodding when a waiter offered something on a cracker. “You’re kind a homebody now, aren’t you Jones?”

Killian glared at her, but the words did something to Emma’s ability to stay on her own feet and they were drawing a crowd.

Elsa wasn’t wearing a gold dress – it was silver and kind of blue’ish and obviously gorgeous and it, somehow, still managed to match Liam’s tie. “Hey,” she said brightly, tugging Emma towards her as if they hadn’t seen each other two days before at the Garden. “Look who finally managed to show up. Where’s your tie, KJ?”  
  
“Oh my God,” Killian sighed. Emma took a step back, letting her back brush against his chest and she grinned when his arm found its way back around her waist, some kind of human anchor in the absurdity that was the Rangers not-quite prom on New Year’s Eve.

“Was I right?”

“I have no idea what you’re asking me, El. Where are your kids?”

“With Mom and Dad, obviously. Stop avoiding my questions, KJ.”  
  
Emma let out a sound that was more _understanding_ than an actual gasp, but the realization hit her suddenly and they probably should have just stayed home because Killian was going to mumble under his breath all night about the distinct lack of morality on this team.

“Traffic or which direction we came?” Emma asked and Elsa’s eyes practically lit up. Will took more pictures.

“You’ve got to be honest too,” Liam said. “Because there’s an entire plane ride’s worth of sleep riding on this.”

“Wow, big stakes.”  
  
“Is this why you were actually downstairs?” Killian demanded. Liam shrugged. “Oh my God.”  
  
Emma let her head fall on Killian’s shoulder, some kind of unspoken support that was a bit more of a challenge when there was still a kid hanging off him. “We took Henry Hudson because we couldn’t go any other way and, yeah, I mean it’s New Year’s Eve. We hit a ton of traffic.”

Elsa actually punched the air in celebration, getting a few inches on her jump and Killian stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “I knew it,” she shouted, twisting her head between either Jones brother and her smile was infectious. Even Killian looked entertained. Kind of. “I told you they wouldn’t be able to get down on the West Side.”  
  
“Well, that’s dumb,” Liam mumbled, scowling at Will’s camera when he pushed the phone in his face. “Do not document this, Scarlet. I want this forgotten and that Uber driver...arrested or something.”  
  
“‘Tis the season,” Ruby chuckled, directing a waiter with around the group and demanding _more alcohol in these spritzers_  “Can we still say that?”

“I think it still counts because we’re still in the week that includes time off from school,” Robin reasoned. He made a noise in the back of his throat, when Will turned his phone on him, grabbing the thing and stuffing in his back pocket in a move that was so _dad_ it made Emma wonder if all of them were going to get grounded by the end of the night.

“What the hell, Locksley?” Will snapped and both Elsa and Ruby clicked their tongues, nodding almost in tandem to Roland.

Roland, however, seemed far more interested in trying to talk about standings and point totals and Emma was sure, somewhere, Regina was glaring at something.

“Yeah, you’ve got to give him that back, Locksley,” Killian muttered. “How else is going to calm the masses clamoring for all of our pictures on the internet?”  
  
Emma made a face and he shouldn’t have been able to tell, but he knew she’d been thinking about this like prom and probably just had some kind of _Swan sixth-sense_ at this point, so she wasn’t remotely surprised when she could feel Killian’s questioning stare on the side of his head.

“Scarlet and I kind of have a deal,” Emma explained, chancing a glance up and he was smiling. Idiot. Maybe she was the one who was going to attack-kiss him at this party. Waiting until midnight seemed kind of pointless.

“And it’s really important, right Em?” Will asked. Ruby rolled her eyes.

“It’s...helpful.”  
  
“And includes Scarlet's, apparently, very strong social media presence?” Killian suggested. “Lucas, your face is going to get stuck like that if you keep doing that thing with your eyes.”  
  
“You’re not a doctor, Cap,” Ruby hissed, leaning around Will to pull his phone out of Robin’s pocket. “Where’s A? I bet she can prove my point.”  
  
“That word.”  
  
“Scarlet was right, you really do need some alcohol. Where’s Arthur? I think he’s honestly hoarding it.”

“Anyway,” Emma said sharply and Killian kissed her hair again. “At the risk of somehow making Scarlet think he’s even more important than he already is…”

Will scoffed. “That’s rude, Emma. I won us that game yesterday.”

“You made one move and caught a garbage goalie off guard. Can I explain what we’re doing now?” He nodded, slinging an arm around Robin in a not-so-subtle attempt to get his phone back. “Anyway,” Emma repeated. “Scarlet is actually kind of funny on Instagram and people follow him because he posts all kinds of stuff about the team and things that Mulan obviously won’t get when we’re all following the rules, so tomorrow he’s in charge of the social media stuff before practice. Live stuff when we take the train uptown and then more photos and probably some ops with fans because we really did give out a shit ton of tickets. Sorry, Rol.”

Roland didn’t seem all that upset about the less-than-responsible adults around him and Will grinned at Killian like he was getting ready to challenge him to some kind of Instagram duel. “Plus, Cap,” he added, ignoring Emma’s sigh when he wouldn’t shut up, “You’re popular subject matter. Like four of my top six photos this year have you in them.”  
  
Killian quirked an eyebrow – the only sign he heard Liam and Robin’s uproarious laughter the slight twitch of his mouth and he tugged Emma even closer to his side. Roland almost kicked her in the waist.

“Your feet mate,” Killian mumbled and Emma was dimly aware of Ariel’s screech a few feet away. “God, Red, you’re going to break everyone’s ear drums.”

“And you’re going to break both of you shoulders,” Ariel argued. She reached up to try and tug on the back of Roland’s jacket, but that just seemed to get him to dig his heels in – literally and metaphorically, working another hiss out of Killian when he, presumably, made contact with the slightly purple bruise on the side of his hip.

“Is that even possible?” Emma asked. The conversation had, officially, fallen off the rails and she grabbed one of the glasses in Will’s hands before he could even begin to object. “I need this more than you do.”  
  
Will lowered his eyebrows. “I won us that game yesterday,” he argued again and Killian didn’t even try to disguise his sigh. “I should be able to drink whatever I want.”  
  
“I’m not questioning either of those things. I am, however, telling you that I’m fairly certain I’ve got tendonitis in my wrist from signing forms for tomorrow and I want to drink as much champagne as possible. Also, Robin, we didn’t bring any alcohol.”  
  
Emma wasn’t sure who looked more impressed – Robin or Will or, possibly, Killian, but she couldn’t see him when he ducked his head to press a kiss against her temple, a particularly impressive feat with an almost eight-year-old draped over most of his body.

“Yeah, I figured that when you guys showed up empty-handed,” Robin grinned, barely even flinching when Henry collided with his side. “It’s fine. I won twenty bucks.”

Killian’s eyes flashed, rolling his shoulders and Roland laughed when he nearly fell back on the floor. Ariel clicked her tongue in reproach, muttering about _holding your form if you’re just going to start squatting kids now_ , but Emma was far too focused trying to make sure Killian didn’t actually punch two linemates in the span of one conversation.

Liam was laughing. Ruby looked a little smug.

“What could you have possibly bet on?” Killian growled, gaze darting towards Liam who just held up his hands and something was going on.

“Well, we all knew you weren’t ever going to show up on time,” Robin said. “But Scarlet figured you’d at least remember the alcohol rule if only to try and make sure Arthur’s eyes bug out of his head a little bit later on tonight when he realizes we’re breaking those rules as well.”  
  
“You’re a rebel, Cap,” Will added, mumbling something unintelligible when another waiter walked by with drinks on a tray. He handed one to Emma without asking. She finished it in three swigs.

Robin waved his hand through the air. “Anyway,” he continued. “I disagreed with Scarlet, knew you totally forgot about the alcohol rule when you asked if you actually had to wear a jacket last night and figured I’d get something out of it.”  
  
“That’s insane, you know that,” Killian said, but his eyes widened when Emma started to laugh and the alcohol had worked its way through her much quicker than she expected. “What?”  
  
“You wanted to bet about the name of the party,” she shouted and half a dozen pairs of scandalized eyes fell on Killian.

He might have blushed.

The tips of his ears went red.

And Emma wasn’t aware she could get buzzed from two drinks, but it was New Year’s Eve and that probably required fresh starts and brand-new tolerances for alcohol.

“I’m sorry, what?” Robin asked, a challenge in his voice and if they all checked each other on Central Park ice the next day because they were upset over team traditions, then Emma was going to be the one punching people.

Roland kicked Killian again. Henry was barely staying upright.

Ruby looked positively overjoyed.

“Traitor,” Killian mumbled, glancing at Emma, but there was still a ghost of a smile on his face. “And we didn’t even settle terms, Swan. That should nullify it all.”  
  
Emma shrugged, appreciating whatever sort of metaphorical fire had settled in the pit of her stomach and she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the flowers or the way he looked at her – like she was everything New Year’s Eve should be in some kind of absurd, emotional way.

She was definitely buzzed.

“I think you’re trying to back out of a bet that was your idea because you’re trying to stay on some kind of betting high horse,” Emma challenged. Roland, finally, dropped back on the ground, staring up expectantly at her, and she rested both hands on his shoulders when she turned back towards him.

“Rol,” she said seriously and he nodded once. Will did his best to turn his laugh into a cough. “I need you to tell me something and it’s super important, ok?”  
  
“Ok,” he answered, nodding again with wide eyes and someone was taking pictures. It was probably Ruby. Or possibly Mary Margaret. Oh, shit, they should find David and Mary Margaret.

“Did you and Henry come up with the name for this party?”

Roland lowered his eyebrows in confusion and Emma wasn’t quite as steady on her heels when she crouched down to his level, Killian’s hand on her shoulder sending a shock of something very particular down her spine.

The fire in her stomach was an inferno and she couldn’t stop thinking about prom and after prom and spiked punch.

She wished it was closer to midnight.

“That’s what you were betting on?” Elsa asked, a hint of something on the edge of her voice that Emma didn’t entirely understand and the Vankalds knew something. Something big.

She was kind of glad Anna was on some mountain somewhere. She wasn’t sure if she could handle a concentrated attack.

“God, Cap, you really need to get off that high horse,” Robin muttered. “And obviously. First annual isn’t a thing. You think Gina would allow grammatically incorrect names if our kids didn’t come up with it?”

Emma yelped, nearly crashing onto the floor and there was another camera shutter when Killian tugged her back up. “I told you,” she muttered, talking mostly into his jacket while she tried to wrap her arm around his waist.

“I think it’s a wash, Swan,” Killian said, hooking his chin over the top of her head. “You knew the grammar and I knew it was Henry and Rol’s idea. Plus we never did really get around to setting terms. Can’t win anything if there’s nothing to win.”

Will growled – or possibly gagged – and Ruby started shouting  _bring the alcohol over here, Arthur_ and no one was breaking more rules than the head coach of the New York Rangers, eyes just a bit glazed over when he stumbled towards them.

“Where’s your tie, Jones?” Arthur asked as soon as he stopped in front of them, holding out a bottle of what appeared to be very expensive champagne towards Ruby. “Lucas, you’ve got to take this if you’re going to demand it.”  
  
She saluted in response, taking a not-so-small sip straight out of the bottle. “Gina, didn’t see that, did she?”

“I think she’s talking to that Garden of Dreams person.”  
  
“Arthur, do you not know Aurora’s name?” Emma asked, wiggling her fingers when Ruby didn’t immediately start sharing the champagne. It was very expensive champagne.

He shrugged in response, all three first-liners and Liam both snickering under their breath. “Three sheets to the wind,” Killian whispered, barely even loud enough for Emma to hear. “Give me some of that, love.”

She mumbled a few curses under her breath and her eyes widened when Killian’s drink was closer to a gulp, a shiver working through him when the alcohol landed. “We won last night, Arthur,” he continued. “How come you don’t remember Aurora’s name? She’s been engaged to Phillip forever.”

Emma stiffened slightly at that and Killian’s sixth-sense must have gone into overdrive or something because he glanced at her, eyes narrowed in confusion or, possibly, intoxication and the champagne had already been passed on – Robin taking what looked like a double straight out of the bottle.

“We’re all going to get the flu,” Ruby grumbled, but the bottle was in Liam’s hand and, well, ‘tis the season for caring or sharing or drinking very expensive champagne at some kind of world-record pace.

“If we all get the flu, you can’t put that on Instagram, ok, Scarlet?” Emma asked. Her shoulders still felt tight. She was never going to forgive Ruth Nolan.

“Yeah, I know how it works, Em.”

She opened her mouth to make an almost well-thought-out response, but there were heels coming towards her and Regina looked somewhere in the realm of murderous, Mary Margaret and David half a step behind her with drinks in their hand.

“Reese’s?” Emma chanced, but she didn’t respond before Regina yanked the bottle away from Elsa and...promptly drank the rest of it. Will and Robin both tried to make sure she didn’t drown herself in champagne, but she just held up one finger, somehow managing to keep drinking while shaking her head and Mary Margaret looked a little shellshocked.

Regina exhaled when she, finally, finished the champagne and very-drunk Arthur was hysterical, whistling when the empty bottle was handed off to a waiter who also looked a little impressed.

“Did she try and show you her Pinterest board?” Arthur asked knowingly and Regina practically snarled. He nodded in understanding.

Emma had no idea what was going on.

“She’s not going coming with us to the Games right?” Regina demanded. The whole group shrugged.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Gina,” Killian muttered after a few more moments of confused silence. “Are we actually talking about Aurora?”  
  
Regina nodded again and Mary Margaret actually mumbled words under her breath that weren’t complimentary. “Jeez, Reese’s,” Emma breathed.

Mary Margaret just widened her eyes. “And you thought my appetizer count was extravagant. Just wait until Aurora corners you.” She paused, furrowing her eyebrows when she realized most of the roster was standing in front of her. “Did you buy that tux, Scarlet?”

“It’s good, right?” he grinned. “I’m totally going to win all the awards.”

“We said not to make it weird, Scarlet,” Robin sighed, wrapping an arm around Regina and she seemed to almost visibly deflate. Or at least start to breathe again.

“Ah, well, Cap broke all the rules anyway. Plus, I won that game yesterday, so the rules don’t apply.”

“Oh my God.”  
  
“Can we get drunk now, please?” Ruby asked, jumping when another waiter appeared next to her with more spritzers as quickly as if he’d teleported there. Emma groaned. “You know, a responsible amount of drunk. Not enough to screw up the event tomorrow. Sorry, Rol.”  
  
Roland wasn’t even standing there any more. He and Henry were tucked into a corner, a phone held in between them and they were definitely watching a game.

“You are all terrible at following rules,” Regina muttered, but she took a glass anyway. “Should we toast now or closer to midnight? Detective?”

David nearly snapped to attention when he was addressed, eyes wide and Emma wasn’t sure who looked more proud – her or Mary Margaret. “Oh, right, yeah,” David stammered. “I mean, no shame in doubling up on luck, right?”

There was a general murmur of agreement and David toasted twice – once in that circle of team and family and _feeling_ and then again, at midnight, with Times Square just barely visible through the window of the loft and Killian’s arm around Emma’s shoulder, lips pressed against her temple. He kissed her at midnight.

Will and Ruby won awards for their outfits, pictures posted on Instagram and several hundred likes and Killian didn’t even grumble much when he agreed that the top six photos of the year weren’t all that bad.

And they definitely got drunk, stumbling out of the cab they definitely overpaid for because it was after midnight and traffic was the worst and neither one of those things seemed to matter when their apartment door slammed shut, Emma’s back pressed against it and her fingers already trying to tug off Killian’s belt.

“I’m not going anywhere, Swan,” he laughed softly, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. “And I’d really rather this didn’t happen against the door.”

“I’m not entirely opposed to the door.”  
  
He grinned at her, tongue pressed into the corner of his lips and it did something absurd to her heart and her pulse and her ability to form coherent sentences and she’d settle for just getting his jacket off him at that point.

They left a trail of clothes in their wake that they’d both be equally frustrated and entertained by the next morning, but it didn’t really matter in the moment, as long as she got to keep touching him and Emma gasped when she landed in the middle of the mattress, knocking off pillows and his tie and her phone sounded like a boulder when it landed on the ground.

“If my screen cracked, I’m going to be really annoyed,” Emma mumbled, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat when he dragged his teeth over the strap of her dress. “That’s cheating. Jeez, fuck, do that again.”

Killian laughed and he did – trying to push her further up the bed in the process and her hair was everywhere when she tried to work her foot in between his legs to push his pants off.

It all felt vaguely familiar and brand-new and, maybe, just a bit hopeful too and they were still winning.

It was the most sentimental thing she’d ever thought.

Until she breathed _I love you_ as soon as his fingers curled around her thigh and tugged up her dress and she could feel Killian’s smile against her neck when he started kissing out nonsensical patterns on her skin.

“Where is the zipper on this?” he asked and Emma was pleased to find his voice nearly as wrecked as hers, the words scratching their way out and reigniting that fire in her stomach. He traced his hands over hips, trying to work his fingers under her back and laughing probably wasn’t the most romantic thing she could do in bed on New Year’s morning, but it made sense and he was so goddamn impatient.

The muscles in her face were going to get stuck in a permanent smile.

“Swan,” Killian muttered, fingers moving again and tracing across the inside of her thighs. Her hips practically bucked up and she wasn’t sure who made what noise, but she nearly forgot about all the reasons she’d been frustrated before and Killian’s smirk seemed to move across his face in slow motion. “The dress, love. It’s got to come off.”  
  
“I thought you were here all night or something.”  
  
“I’m not disputing that, but I’d very much like the dress out of the way.”  
  
Her eyes darted up, trying to take stock of his face or something equally absurd, but she was glad she did because he was staring at her like she was everything and then several other adjectives and she was so happy it felt like she might actually burst with it.

And she really wanted the dress out of the way too.

She smiled, letting her fingers trail across his arms and down his side, brushing over the distinct lack of clothing and several different bruises and it felt like she’d won when his eyes fluttered shut.

“Emma…”  
  
“There’s no zipper,” she whispered and Killian’s whole body froze. His eyes snapped open. “It just...kind of fits.”  
  
“Fucking hell,” he mumbled, mouth crashing on hers while he tried to tug fabric away and make sure he didn’t crush her or the flowers on her wrist.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on.”  
  
“Swan.”

“You bought me a corsage, you can’t ruin it while trying to undress me.”

Killian laughed, head falling next to hers on the mattress, but Emma could still make out the hint of a smile on his face when he twisted to look at her. “I wanted to do it right,” he said. “There was always...I was at a training facility in Colorado for the U-17 team when I maybe would have gone to prom. If we were going to do this, it only made sense to follow through on some 80’s rom com.”

“You totally would have gotten asked to prom.”  
  
“I would have asked you to prom.”  
  
“God, what a line.”

He did something absurd with his eyebrows, fingers moving again and Emma’s mouth dropped open slightly when his hands shifted back in between her legs. “I love you, Emma,” Killian said, quiet and determined and she’d have to look up how to preserve flowers eventually.

Maybe after the event in Central Park.

And they’d been living together for months, she’d heard those words more times than she could count, but it didn’t really matter because Emma was fairly certain her stomach would always do that _swooping thing_ whenever Killian’s voice did that _genuine, earnest thing_ and she put the flowers on the nightstand before they started kissing again.

“I love you too,” she said in between kisses and hands and more pillows falling on the floor. They didn’t really get that much sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the hockey! It's back! This was a totally unplanned story that only happened because the Rangers keep doing things and my mind is like...write that thing. So I wrote the thing. Also three of my favorite players are living together now and I'm getting so many "first line" feelings about it. 
> 
> Thank you guys for every click, commen and kudos. It has made my entire year.


	2. Chapter 2

“Scarlet, if you hit me with your stick again, I’m going to push you off this platform.”

Will narrowed his eyes – and then hit Killian with his stick again, tapping on the back of his calves and just above his skates and it was an almost impressive feat since he was also holding a phone, glancing at the screen every few minutes because there was, apparently, some kind of audience for this.

“You’re a real bad sport, Cap,” Will sighed, staring at him like he wasn’t following the rules of a pick-up game they’d organized instead of arguing whatever bruise was forming on his leg at that very moment. “People are enjoying this.”  
  
Killian bit his lip, trying to swallow back his immediate retort and well aware that people probably _were_ enjoying this because it was a pretty cool event and he’d been the first one to tell Emma to _plan it, Swan_ when she brought it up two months before.

And, really, it was one of the few fan events they were going to get to do that year.

There wasn’t an All-Star break that season or Casino Night – which might have been some kind of blessing in disguise when Emma realized she wouldn’t have to go to New Jersey to get things out of storage again – because they would be on the other side of the world, playing in games that didn’t really do much for the NHL except make all the front office bigwigs worry about injuries, for two weeks in February and the league wasn’t willing to give up more days or more profit.

Which almost made the six games in nine days thing, even during the so-called Christmas holiday, understandable.

Almost.

If he wasn’t so goddamn tired. And sore. God, every inch of him hurt. And he hadn’t really gotten much sleep the night before.

“Can you at least look like you’re not super pissed off to be here?” Will continued, leaning his elbow on the top of his stick and holding his phone up with his left hand. “Ah, shit, where’s Gina? I need one of those battery things.”

Killian groaned. Or maybe that was Ruby. Or possibly Emma. It was definitely Emma.

“Scarlet,” she muttered, taking a step forward and kicking at his shins. He nearly tripped over his own skates trying to back up. “You are on camera. How did none of the rules stick?”  
  
“He broke all the rules yesterday, Em,” Robin reasoned. Will was still trying to backtrack, perilously close to the stairs in the middle of the platform and, a few weeks before, taking the train to an open, outdoor practice in Central Park actually sounded kind of fun and a bit nostalgic, but now Killian was having a hard time keeping his eyes open and he really wanted to still be at home, in bed, with his girlfriend.

Lucas was right – he was a total homebody.

“Totally made the awards thing weird,” Emma added and Will rolled his eyes when he sank onto one of the steps of a staircase that probably hadn’t been cleaned in, at least, four decades. “God, don’t sit on that! You’re going to screw up your uniform.”  
  
Will’s lips quirked as soon as the quasi-swear was out of her mouth and Emma rolled her whole head back, something that sounded suspiciously like a growl working its way out of her. Ruby, at least, tried to make her laughter sound like...something else.

It didn’t work.

Killian took a step forward, leaving his stick propped up against a pillar and he could only imagine the amount of paperwork Emma had signed for all of this. There were cameras everywhere – local TV and possibly the NHL Network and some guy that he was fairly certain worked with Dor at _Sports Illustrated_ , which seemed a bit like media cheating, but he absolutely was not going to point that out.

Emma’s head landed on his shoulder when he came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and Will didn’t move his phone.

He’d probably have to thank him for that later.

“How would sitting down screw up my uniform?” he asked instead, tilting his head and flashing a smile Emma’s direction when she met his gaze again. Ruby was mumbling under her breath about germs.

Emma just exhaled, something that was a bit closer to a huff than it probably should have been at eleven in the morning, but she hadn’t really wanted to get out of bed either – even for her own event and a questionable amount of paperwork and waivers for a small group of kids that were supposed to get out on the ice after practice.

They weren’t really going to practice.

If Arthur had been even remotely coherent the night before he probably would have brought that up several times – reminding his roster that they _couldn’t actually run real plays_ or _go after Jeff too hard in net_ and one of them probably would have mentioned that he was a _paranoid weirdo_ because he wouldn’t make them skate blue lines in front of an audience.

It was a glorified morning skate and Arthur was definitely going to be hungover.

He’d brought four bottles of that very expensive champagne.

And they drank them all.

And then got, approximately, one hour and forty-five minutes of sleep.

Killian would do it again and probably spend the majority of the next week thinking about Emma’s dress and the ring around her neck that was obvious in every single photo they’d taken and posted on various social media sites and there were a lot of photos and a lot of kissing and he was going to have a difficult time staying upright on his skates that afternoon.

“Still with us, Cap?” Robin called, the laughter in his voice making it almost painfully obvious it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Killian’s attention.

Emma laughed again, leaning forward to try and tug her hair back over her shoulders, but that only served to move a very specific way against Killian and this was ridiculous.

They were going to end up on the cover of _The Post_.

Killian nodded when Robin widened his eyes again. “Yeah,” he promised. “Definitely still here. Where else would I go?”  
  
It was the wrong question to ask – Ruby didn’t even try and mask her laughter at all and Will was probably going to give several Facebook LIVE viewers vertigo if he kept shaking the phone like that.

“I have absolutely no idea, Cap,” Robin said, but his eyes darted towards Will and neither one of them were very good at disguising whatever conversation they were having.

Killian hummed and his hand tightened a bit, thumb tapping out a slightly impatient rhythm on Emma’s hip. “Can we complain about the MTA on this video?” he asked, determined to change the subject and the growing certainty that everyone he knew was talking about him. “You think we’ll get fined for that?”  
  
“You’ve got that great, big contract now, Cap,” Will shrugged and the phone was back, no longer shaking and pointed directly in Killian’s face. “Does that mean you’re just going to pay for all of our fun when we're at the Games next month?”  
  
Killian leveled him – or his phone, God – with a look he hoped didn’t show how absolutely frustrated he was, but it probably didn’t work because Emma clicked her tongue and stalked towards Will, sinking down onto the step next to him.

“God, we didn’t have to worry about the flu from sharing champagne,” Ruby muttered, but she was leaning against a pillar too, arms crossed and impatience practically rolling off her. This was the slowest uptown-one in the history of the New York public transportation system. “We’re all going to contract some deadly disease from standing on this platform for the rest of our lives.”  
  
Emma growled again, scrunching her nose and they were definitely starting to draw a crowd, but there were also a few NYPD officers who were supposed to trail all of them on their several-dozen block ride uptown and no one started shouting about subReddit posts or point totals.

They were in third in the Metro anyway – there wasn’t anything to complain about yet.

“Can we not talk about deadly diseases while we’re still live?” Emma asked, shoulders moving when she took a deep breath that might have just been a yawn. “You’re going to scare away all the fans.”  
  
Will chuckled, hitting something on his phone and Emma’s eyes widened when she realized she was on camera with him. She waved.

And Killian’s heart might have stopped.

Or started in quadruple time.

“I don’t think we can scare ‘em away,” Will grinned, twisting slightly to glance at Emma. “There’s a lot of people waiting for us to do something interesting on this stream.”  
  
She let out a low whistle and Killian could only imagine how absolutely insufferable Will was going to be about the number of fans his face _drew_ or something equally ridiculous. “We would be able to do something interesting if this train didn’t take eight-hundred years to get here,” Emma mumbled, drawing a laugh out of Robin and a cackle out of Ruby and Killian was somewhere in the realm of impressed.

“Ah, now you’ve done it, Em,” Ruby muttered. “You guys are going to have to resell that very fancy apartment so you can pay whatever fine we’re all going to get wrecked with.”  
  
Emma lifted her eyebrows. The fans were starting to get louder. Mulan was still taking pictures of them. “Is that grammatically correct?’ she asked. “Can we get wrecked by something that isn’t actually real?”  
  
“I mean the money you’ll have to pay to apologize to the MTA will definitely be real.”  
  
“God, stop using the actual name,” Robin groaned. “If we just allude to whoever is in charge of the Subway system, maybe none of us will get fined.”  
  
“Yeah, I think we’re past that point,” Will muttered, nodding towards his phone screen and Emma made a noise that was inching dangerously close to distraught.

Killian took another step forward, grabbing the phone out of Will’s hand and ignoring the immediate sounds of protest, glancing at the string of comments and they had, apparently, started some kind of discourse about the woeful incompetence of the MTA.

Or so BlueshirtBanter1926 wrote two seconds before.

GardenFaithful3494 agreed.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered and that drew another string of comments and a few others that were mostly about his face and _does Cap look kind of tired_ and _the schedule this month has been insane_ and someone was pulling the phone away from him.

They should throw the goddamn thing on the tracks.

That would probably just fuck up the train.

“Now you’ve done it, Cap,” Ruby laughed, digging the toe of her heel into the platform floor and she had her own phone out. “Get ready to list that apartment.”  
  
He shook his head. “See, you’re saying that like we’d have to sell our apartment to pay a fine. Why jump straight to the apartment?”  
  
“That’s the best thing you own.”  
  
“We are not selling our apartment,” Emma mumbled, eyes focused on the screen while Will tried to do some sort of damage control, but it didn’t seem to work when he kept breaking out into hysterics. She glanced up when Killian didn’t say anything, but he was too busy _thinking_ in some sort of great, big major way to be concerned with just about anything else and she smiled when she met his gaze.

“Team don’t sell the apartment for a fine I’m fairly sure doesn’t exist, but maybe we try and redirect the conversation a little bit?” she asked and Killian couldn’t stop himself from smiling at her if he tried.

Or flirting with her.

It definitely felt like flirting – still and always and, possibly, indefinitely and it was no wonder he’d gotten less than two hours of sleep the night before. If he wasn’t trying to spend most of his time kissing Emma, he was thinking things and considering other things and she’d spent at least forty minutes the night before crouched in the corner of the loft with Roland and Henry cheering at whatever hockey game they were watching.

It was Boston University.

He looked it up before they went downtown that morning.

They won, beat Harvard in some kind of holiday tournament that Liam probably knew all about, but Killian kept thinking about the way Emma tried to teach Henry and Roland BU cheers, eyes just a shade brighter when they met his and mumbled some kind of trash talk about Minnesota that didn’t quite make sense.

He was surprised he was still standing when she announced _the kids are with me_ and all three of them explained why Minnesota hadn’t won a national championship in nearly a decade.

He was thinking way too much.

“It’s kind of wordy,” Killian grinned, working a laugh out of Emma that seemed to linger in the very center of him and maybe that’d keep them all warm on the ice because he was fairly positive it was close to freezing outside.

And they were all a bit hungover.

“No worse than whatever grammatically incorrect name we had for last night’s party,” Emma challenged.

Killian shrugged. “That’s a fair point. Also, is that going to become an actual annual thing? Because we’ve got way too many things on this team.”  
  
“You didn’t seem to mind so much after all the champagne last night, Cap,” Ruby pointed out, the grin on her face taking a slightly predatory turn and he kind of wanted to be holding his stick again. “Almost looked like you were enjoying yourself around midnight.”  
  
He quirked an eyebrow, but Ruby was Ruby and she was never going to back down from anything – even with a Facebook LIVE stream that was probably going to spark several dozen internet rumors or a crowd that was beginning to give the NYPD more trouble than they’d originally anticipated.  

Robin groaned under his breath, mumbling about _acting like children_ and something that sounded a bit like _slander_ and Will moved on the edge of the step so all three of them could fit together in one spot.

“You need to relax, Dad,” Will said. “Wave hello to the internet, Locksley.”

He did as instructed, if not a little stiffly when he was still holding his stick in front of him, propped up on the steps and they probably weren’t supposed to be blocking the stairs like that. “Hello, internet,” Robin muttered.

Will cackled – or possibly guffawed – head thrown back until he was dangerously close to hitting himself on the step behind him. Emma moved her hand behind his hair, trying to make sure one of them didn’t actually concuss themselves on stairs covered in, likely, several different type of bacteria.

“God, Scarlet,” she groaned, pushing back against his head until he sat up and his whole body was still shaking. Robin was talking to the screen, answering questions and redirecting the conversation and Emma flashed Killian something that was almost a smile, but might have just been a silent plea to get back to their apartment as quickly as possible.

And the whole concussion thing was still slightly shaky ground for both of them – memories of November and Arizona and an absolutely frantic Ariel sprinting into the training room with her phone pressed against her ear and demands to find out if Killian was ok because _Emma is totally freaking out_.

He might have been too.

“Em, you need to do some breathing exercises with Cap,” Will said, ducking his head back into the frame of his phone screen. Killian was going to strangle him. Or check him on the ice. Probably the second one.

Definitely the second one.

“And,” he added. “Help me answer some of these Olympic questions because people have questions about the Olympics.”  
  
“You’re the one playing, not me,” Emma argued, trying to get as far away from the phone without actually standing back up.

“Ah, but you’re there to make sure we all stay in line or something.”  
  
“I am not your mother or your minder, Scarlet.”  
  
Will clicked his tongue, squeezing one eye shut and even Robin made a noise that might have been a disagreement. “Eh,” he said. Emma glared at both of them. “I’m just saying, if Scarlet is thinking about being an idiot, he’s going to reconsider those thoughts if you’re around, Emma. Or Cap. So really, you guys hold all the pre-Olympic power.”  
  
Emma didn’t look impressed.

Killian tried to figure out how he could check Scarlet without a, likely, hungover Arthur and a crowd of several thousand, freezing cold fans who’d waited several hours to see them, noticing.

“He’s not even going to be in the same place as us,” Ruby pointed out, not bothering to take her eyes away from her phone when she rejoined the conversation. “Seriously, where the hell is this train?”  
  
“Language, Lucas,” Killian muttered and she kicked at him. She was several feet away. “And Phillip will make sure Scarlet reigns in on his terror-causing tendencies.”  
  
He glanced at Emma, smile tugging on the corners of her mouth even when Will stood back up and grabbed Killian’s stick. He hit him with his own stick. “Good alliteration,” Emma smiled and his mind raced back to thoughts and ideas and plans and he’d been nervous that a slightly drunk Liam and Elsa were going to give him away the night before.

And, really, half of those thoughts were absolutely Liam and Elsa’s fault because Christmas at the brownstone had happened and Lizzie absolutely stole everyone’s attention and watching the goddamn _Muppet Christmas Carol_ while Emma held onto a six-month old had done a number on his ability to think about...anything else.

“Ok, first of all,” Will started, stopping next to Killian and he hadn’t actually let go of his stick. “I do not have terror tendencies. I have...fun tendencies.”

“Terror-causing tendencies,” Robin corrected. Will scowled at the internet. “I’m just saying if you’re going to be an ass about this, then at least do it right.”  
  
“Can you all please stop swearing on camera?” Emma asked. “We’re still live and I really don’t want to end up in Zelena’s office because someone in Illinois is upset at your distinct lack of morals.”

“That was oddly specific.”  
  
“And,” Will added. “I’m, like, at least ninety-nine percent positive Zelena is going to be out of commission for several days because, at one point last night, she and Arthur were just doing shots of the shittiest vodka I’ve ever had to drink.”  
  
Ruby lowered her eyebrows. “We are on camera. When did you do shots?”  
  
“Are you upset you missed out on the fun, Lucas?”  
  
“I mean obviously not if it was garbage. I’m just wondering when I managed to miss that. Also, circling back around to Cap’s question? Is that a thing now? This New Year’s Eve thing? Because if we’re ever allowed to play in the Winter Classic again, doing this every year is going to be kind of problematic.”

“We probably wouldn’t get acceptably drunk if we were playing a game the next day, Lucas,” Killian pointed out and Emma had moved at some point, pacing on the platform because the train, somehow, still hadn’t shown up yet.

“I’m just wondering,” Ruby continued. “If we’re making certain things permanent. In a forever type of way.”  
  
He pressed his lips together, teeth digging into the side of his tongue so he wouldn’t start yelling or just punching things and there wasn’t anything to punch. Ruby smiled, the look moving across her face slowly like she could read his mind and Killian wouldn’t have been surprised if she could.

Ruby Lucas knew everything. At all times.

God.

Robin snapped his jaw, looking like he was planning on getting five minutes for slashing. Or possibly a game misconduct. He still wasn’t standing up. “Did we not all have fun last night?” he asked sharply and the rest of them shrugged. “Oh my God, do not pull that. You guys all had fun and Scarlet totally bought that tuxedo.”  
  
“I told you that in confidence,” Will shouted. “You were wearing a tophat, Locksley!”

“Yeah, but that was classy. You looked like you were trying to be Mr. V at Casino Night.”

Killian hissed in air, slinging an arm around Emma’s shoulders – mostly so he wouldn’t lose his footing on his own skates. “That’s rough, Locksley,” he laughed. “You’re going to have buy them all something from the Games now.”  
  
“I thought we decided you were this great, big rich hockey player now, Cap. Weren’t you going to buy us all food or something?”  
  
“Just like...one time? We’re there for two weeks, Locksley.”  
  
“Plus,” Emma muttered, voice barely audible over the din of the crowd when the goddamn uptown one, finally, showed up. She hadn’t moved away from Killian’s side. Robin finally stood up. “If you guys want to get technical, there won’t be much time for a ton of team bonding that isn’t, you know, incredible planned.”  
  
Will deflated. “What?” he cried and Emma let her head fall against Killian’s shoulder. He kissed her. He probably shouldn’t have done that. They were still on camera. The _Sports Illustrated_ person might have said something. “Em,” Will continued, the two letters sounding particularly distressed. “We’ve got to have a full Olympic experience! We can’t do the bidding of the league at all times.”  
  
“Camera, Scarlet,” Killian and Robin mumbled at the same time. He waved a dismissive hand through the air – nearly taking out Ruby because he was still holding Killian’s stick.

“Is there really an Olympic schedule?” Will asked.

Emma shrugged. “What do you think I’ve been doing most of this season?”  
  
“Planning Rangers stuff.”  
  
“Well, yeah,” she admitted, rocking her head slightly and Killian resisted the urge to kiss her in public again.

They’d gotten those few days off after the parade and the contract and interviews about both the parade and the contract, but there were still events during the offseason and a trip to Colorado and _that_ led to more thoughts and more plans and then they were moving into the apartment and trying to hide trophies they absolutely weren’t supposed to have – deleting photos off Will’s phone at one point – and then the season started and there were a questionable number of games and more back-to-backs than usual so they could go be Olympians and Emma kept working.

She kept planning and coming up with ideas and schedules and it seemed kind of ridiculous to announce that he was proud of his girlfriend, but that’s exactly what Killian was and probably always would be...if he could just organize some of his thoughts.

Ruby was still staring knowingly at him.

And he really wanted to go back home.

“So then why the Olympic schedules?” Will pressed, ignoring Robin’s quiet mumblings of something that sounded a lot like _shut up, Scarlet_.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Because there are two weeks of time we need to organize and a ton of games and players that aren’t just Rangers that you guys have to, at least, pretend to like and we’ve got tickets to some sports that don’t exist if there aren’t Olympics and you want to stay in the Village.”

“Phillip and I decided that together. It’s the experience.”  
  
“I’m not arguing that. I am just telling you I have put a ton of work into this and am only dimly aware of what day it actually is, so you will follow my schedule and you will enjoy it.”

Will didn’t laugh – which might have actually been some kind of miracle – and Killian glanced towards Robin questioningly. He just shrugged. And then Will saluted.

“Idiot,” Killian mumbled, but Will’s smile grew as he stepped into the train, holding his phone as high above his head as he could so he could fit all of them into the frame.

“Just FYI, everyone,” Ruby said. “David’s going to battle the internet again and, apparently, the crowd at Central Park. It’s very cold out, I guess.”  
  
Emma’s head snapped up, eyes wide and just a bit hopeful and Killian almost forgot about whatever fine they were probably going to have to pay for insulting a government agency and the National Hockey League on the internet.

He wrapped his arm back around her and she was wearing the same hat she’d had on when they went skating at Central Park.

It felt like a sign.  
  
He wasn’t sure for what, but it was definitely there.

“Alright, well, we’re, finally, heading uptown now,” Will said to the camera and Killian reached forward to grab his stick. He hit Will’s ankles. “And if Cap is done beating me up, we’ll see all of you guys in Central Park where I’ll probably amaze all of you with my ability to juke in front of both Jeff and anyone trying to defend me.”  
  
“You’re a defenseman, Scarlet,” Killian hissed, but it didn’t really matter because the comments were still coming in and they’d all broken every rule the night before and then on camera, but maybe outdoor practice would be fun.

And he also might try and juke anyone who tried to defend him in some not-quite misplaced attempt to impress his own girlfriend.

“Whatever,” Will brushed off. “Wave goodbye to the fans, everyone!”

They all did as instructed, the NYPD and the small press contingent following them into to the car as soon as an automated voice remind them to _stand clear of the closing doors_.

Arthur wasn’t just hungover by the time they got on the ice – he was, apparently, determined to put on some sort of show.

He brought his whistle.

To Central Park.

In the goddamn freezing cold.

“Is it even safe for us to be out here?”Will asked, not even ten minutes into skating and it wasn’t the first time he’d asked that.

“You’re really trying to drop gloves aren’t you?” Killian muttered. He dug the toe of his skate into the ice and he wasn’t sure how facilities worked in Central Park, but they were probably going to have to pay for that too because they were absolutely going to practice breakaways.

The crowd would, as they say, go wild.

Will shook his head, disbelief etched into the pinch between his eyebrows. “And end up with Emma mad at me? No thanks, Cap. Plus you guys were making eyes on the platform. I’m not getting in the middle of that.”

Killian didn’t say anything, mostly because he couldn’t argue the very obvious fact that he was, very obviously, making eyes at Emma on the platform and she was somewhere in the crowd with Mary Margaret and David and, hopefully, some form of hot chocolate.

Mary Margaret absolutely brought hot chocolate to Central Park.

“Honestly though,” Will continued, seemingly undeterred by Killian’s silence. “Where’s A? I bet she’ll tell us some really good facts about frostbite.”

“You are not going to get frostbite. God.”

“You don’t know that, Cap. What do you know about frostbite?”  
  
“That it probably has to be below freezing to occur.”  
  
Will twisted his mouth at that, shoulders shifting under his pads and Arthur’s whistle should probably be put in a museum as some kind of vague torture device, used to destroy the general morale of a third-place hockey team just a few hours after they’d all consumed far too much alcohol in the middle of the season.

“I mean that’s just stupid science,” Will blustered, hooking the curve of his stick under the closest puck and bouncing it a few inches in the air.

Several fans cheered.

“Stupid science,” Robin echoed, making a face when Killian glanced in his direction. “And just think, he graduated college.”

“This whole day is going to do dangerous things to his ego,” Killian said and Robin hummed in agreement. He was stickhandling an imaginary puck. And Arthur must have brought extra oxygen with him to blow the whistle that hard. “Fucking hell,” Robin sighed. “You think we can use the whistle to practice breakaways?”

“If not I’m just going to stomp on it with my skate.”  
  
“You could probably get Lucas to do some damage with her heel, honestly,” Will suggested and that might have been the most intelligent thing he’d said all day.

Phillip bit his lip a few feet away, leaning up against the boards with his weight resting on the back of his heels and bags under his eyes that probably could have rivaled just about anyone in the entire world at that point.

“Why are you so tired, Rook?” Robin asked knowingly. Phillip glared at him.

“I don’t have to explain that,” he muttered, ignoring the not-quite-correct nickname anymore. “And also because Mary Margaret is a very nice human being and actually volunteered to discuss wedding appetizers at some point last night. Did you guys get any of that shit vodka Zelena brought?”

Killian shook his head, the laugh working out of him before he could even consider stopping it. Will and Robin glanced at each other again. “Where are your kids, Locksley?” Killian asked, doing his best to try and redirect the conversation and Arthur was yelling about taking shots.

None of them moved.

“Why you worried about my kids, Cap? And they’re with Mary Margaret and David because Mary Margaret said she was going to bring hot chocolate.”  
  
“I knew it.”  
  
“The kids or Mary Margaret?”  
  
“Both.”  
  
Robin nodded slowly, like he was trying to put together pieces of a puzzle that Killian wasn’t even sure existed yet. He was going to yell at his brother. He was fairly certain this was his fault.

And the twins were...somewhere.

Probably with Mary Margaret and the hot chocolate. And Emma. Emma was definitely with all of them, likely fine-tuning another cheer and the entire crowd was shouting now, demanding shots and practice and they had to move before Killian just started planning the next forty years.

At least.

Probably longer.

God, he needed to sleep for several days.

He nearly jumped a foot in the air when Robin tapped the side of his stick against Killian’s skate, eyes wide and mouth hanging open like he’d actually run uptown and that probably would have been faster than the goddamn train.

“You should probably take some shots, Cap,” Robin said knowingly and he got the distinct impression he was about to be grounded or something. “Work out some of that residual energy. I bet Henry and Rol even came up with a cheer.”  
  
“They did,” Phillip promised, drawing three confused glances his way. He shrugged. “While you guys were doing whatever it was you were doing on Facebook, insulting the entire city and, like, most of hockey and the international sporting community, the rest of us were ushered up here in temperature controlled cars where we probably could have gotten some sleep if it weren’t for some painfully adorable kids shouting trash talk about gophers.”

Killian wasn’t sure who laughed louder – him or Will, but it didn’t really matter because it looked like Robin was actually crying, his whole body shaking when he tried to support himself on his stick. Arthur blew his whistle again.

“Am I missing something?” Phillip asked, flashing a grin at Will when he knocked the puck off his stick. “Keep your wrists tighter. God.”  
  
“Shut up, Rook,” Will snapped. “I won us that game two nights ago.”  
  
“Lucky shot. You know Lucas told me last night I was one of the most searched NHL players in the league last season. Google told her or something.”  
  
Killian lowered his eyebrows. “Google told her? That’s a direct quote, then?”

“Well, technically, I think the league told her and she was supposed to tell reporters, but then, you know, we’ve played eight-hundred games in the last two days and then had a party to go to and I’m fairly certain she forgot.”  
  
“I think she’s trying to tell you something,” Robin muttered and Killian’s laugh wasn’t so much a laugh as it was just choking on air.

Arthur was skating towards them. “What the hell?” he growled, whistle held in one hand and a stick held loosely in the other and Will just barely leapt out of the way to avoid being slashed in the shin. “Did you not hear the whistle?”  
  
“They heard the whistle in Battery Park,” Killian mumbled. He was far too tired to even move away from the slash.

If he didn’t get to try and shoot something soon he was going to throw his gloves into the crowd.

They were probably supposed to do that anyway.

“Is Phillip complaining about his appetizer choices again?” Arthur continued and he didn’t blink when three quarters of his starting lineup nearly collapsed on the ice in Central Park. The crowd made noise.  
  
It probably looked like they were all having some kind of emotional episode.

They kind of were.

“How could you possibly know that?” Phillip demanded, voice just a bit harsher than it had ever been before and the point streak he was on was doing dangerous things to his ego. That also might have been the very obvious hangover he was still nursing.

“Did A try and convince you that you should have your reception at the restaurant, yet?” Will asked, not quite able to disguise the slight snicker in his voice. Phillip glared at him. Arthur laughed.

“Have we all dissolved into some other parallel universe?” Phillip asked, twisting his wrists when he started stickhandling as well. “And, yeah, I mean, obviously. But there’s probably not going to be enough space there. I think she was super offended by that. Something about supporting her kid’s future.”  
  
“I think that means you’re out of the running for A’s kid’s favorite.”

Phillip rolled his eyes again. Mulan was probably getting some absolutely ridiculous photos out of this.

Arthur shrugged. “Your fiancée was very vocal about your wedding plans last night. We all heard about it. Even when we were trying not to.” Phillip gaped at him, but Arthur wasn’t done yet. He spun on the spot, turning towards Killian with something that felt a little like fire in his gaze. The ice suddenly felt less stable. “Figure out your life, Jones.”  
  
Killian blinked.

And his neck cracked when he snapped his gaze between Robin and Will, both of them equally surprised by whatever proclamation Arthur had just made.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Killian asked, but he also had sort of an idea and he wondered if Liam was capable of keeping his mouth shut.

Probably not.

This practice needed to be over.

Arthur didn’t answer, just blew the whistle again and announced they were _starting drills, now_ and Killian was fairly certain he was frozen to the ice.

“That was kind of terrifying,” Will muttered and Robin hummed in agreement. Phillip laughed.

Killian twisted, spraying Phillip’s skates with ice in the process and lifted his eyebrows expectantly. “The truth, Rook. Also are you going to make sure Scarlet doesn’t embarrass the entire country when we’re at the Games? Because Emma’s kind of worried about that.”  
  
“Obviously,” Phillip answered, drowning out Will’s muttered string of curses and insults. “And, as previously mentioned, there were gopher chants involved in the car ride up here. That Arthur was also sitting in. And when Rol and Henry were asked where they learned it, they both were happy to tell them that Emma helped last night.”  
  
“Ok….”  
  
Phillip widened his eyes, some unspoken _something_ and Killian didn’t ask anymore questions.

He didn’t have to.

Because he and Emma had been living together for half a season and it was good and great and fantastic and his mind wouldn’t shut up, even when he was so exhausted he was barely able to skate. His mind kept jumping from idea to idea and maybe to possibly and _hopefully_ and they needed to keep winning.

In some great, big metaphorical way.

Winning a gold medal would probably help that.

“So, uh…” Will started, skating around them and stealing the puck back from Phillip. “We going to go shoot at Jeff or we just going to let Cap, like, self combust on the ice?”  
  
“That’d probably freak out the fans,” Robin said.

“And, you know, your kids too, probably.”  
  
“Probably.”

Killian scoffed, but his legs were finally starting to work and they were moving back towards the other side of the ice, a small crowd of familiar faces standing just behind the boards.

Emma smiled at him, one arm slung around Henry’s shoulders and her cheek resting on the top of his head. Roland was jumping up and down next to her, shouting about _gophers_ and _living in the dirt_ and Liam couldn’t quite mask his smile even when Elsa started taking photos, both of the twins trying to find some kind of trash talk harmony with the Mills-Locksley kids.

He might have winked or smiled or shouted _I love you_ and Emma’s answering smile was even bigger than the first – bright and easy and certain and she nodded, like she was agreeing to the sentiment wholeheartedly.

And Killian spent the rest of practice showing off for her.

The fans started to leave an hour or so after they got on the ice – about the same time it actually started to snow – and Killian couldn’t really blame them, slightly concerned with the possibility of frostbite as well and whatever the sun was doing to his eyes.

It was very bright out.

Although he might have just been trying to process everything that had happened in the last few hours, Arthur’s whistle seemingly echoing in between his ears and mixing in with laughter and shouts from the crowd and people made signs, cheering for all of them when they, inevitably, started taking breakaways.

He scored every time. Five hole, right under Jeff’s right leg.

“Show off!”

Killian turned, smile on his face when he moved and most of the fans were gone, but there were still a few Garden of Dreams kids and even more cameras and Henry and Roland were already wearing skates.

He did his best to brace himself when Roland slammed against his side, Henry half a step behind with his laugh hanging in the air and Regina was still stuck halfway on the ice and off, looking decidedly out of place in her own skates. Robin was kept muttering something about _balance_ and _finding your center of gravity_ , but it wasn’t really working and someone had given Will his phone back.  
  
“You know that seemed like kind of a challenge, Swan,” Killian said, skating towards her a bit slower than normal when Roland wouldn’t let go of his jersey.

She wasn’t quite as good at stopping in hockey skates as she was in figure skates, hands flying up towards his chest when her toes dug into ice and they were a mess of limbs and smiles and the sounds of Will’s camera shutter.

Emma shook her head and her smile didn’t waver, even when Will pulled Belle past them and Kristoff must have planned all of this.

Or Emma planned all of it.

Emma absolutely planned all of it.

“I don’t see it that way at all,” she said, tugging on fabric and the ‘C’ just under his shoulder. “I was just making an observation that you were, you know, maybe, sort of showing off just a bit. And I was a little curious why.”  
  
She’d done it for the reaction, he was positive, and he couldn’t really smirk at her when there was a kid hanging off his side, but he made an effort anyway – and got her to laugh.

He wasn’t quite as cold anymore.

“Was that not obvious?” Killian asked and Emma shrugged, lower lip sticking out slightly in a way that was nearly as distracting as the dress the night before.

Her hat was pulled low over her ears, hair falling over her shoulders and cheeks just a bit more flushed than usual and Killian didn't even mutter _shut up, Scarlet_ when he heard Will skate by, shouting something about _eyes_ and _making them_. He just ducked his head and kissed Emma.

In front of all the goddamn cameras and the kid still, literally, attached to his hip.

Emma seemed to sigh against him, pushing her hand up and someone laughed loudly when his helmet crashed onto the ice. Killian didn’t move. He hoped Roland moved.

“Your nose is freezing,” Emma muttered, barely moving away from him and it was probably a good thing he was still on the ice because he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to keep his footing on even ground.

Roland and Henry were both trying to check Will – or possibly the other way around. They were all very loud.

“We’ve been outside for nearly two hours, Swan,” Killian said, trying not to breathe in her hair when he brushed against her neck and it didn’t really work, but she made some kind of breathless noise that felt a bit like a victory.

“You’ve been outside for, like, an hour and a half, tops.”  
  
“That’s nearly two hours.”  
  
“That is way less than two hours. Those fans got here at like...nine this morning. David and Reese’s got here at like...”  
  
“You saved them seats, Swan,” he cut in, but Emma shook her head again and her hair nearly found its way into his mouth and, somehow, his eyes. “Did Mary Margaret bring hot chocolate?”

“Did you bet on it?”  
  
“I thought we had decided I was on the moral high horse there.”  
  
Emma clicked her tongue, tilting her head and it sounded as if the twins had joined the checking fray at the other blue line, Liam shouting something about _form_ and _get under his shoulder blades_ working across the ice.

“El is going to kill him,” Emma laughed, fingers leaving his jersey to wrap an arm around him and he absolutely breathed in her hair when he kissed the top of her head. “Also, you were not on the moral high horse. We were equally without morals while betting on New Year’s Eve parties.”  
  
“Ah, well, some kind of team, right, Swan?”  
  
She rolled her eyes, but her teeth found her lower lip and Killian was halfway between kissing her and just announcing plans like he was getting ready to broadcast them on the NHL Network camera that was absolutely taping all of this.  
  
“Yeah,” Emma said softly. “Exactly that.”

“How’d the crowd go? They sounded loud.”  
  
“Because you were showing off. I thought Jeff was actually going to snap his stick over his knee when you scored that last one. That was a gimme-save.”  
  
“First you’re suggesting I’m showing off and now you’re telling me I shouldn’t have scored, love? I’m almost insulted.”  
  
“Almost,” she repeated, a note of skepticism in her voice that did something to both of his lungs. “And the whole thing was great, aside from how absolutely freezing it is. Plus, you know, the snow. That wasn’t supposed to happen. There was no snow on weather on the 1’s this morning.”  
  
“I don’t think you can put much stock in NY1, Swan,” Killian reasoned. “Or actually try and control the weather. Plus, this is still festive. Ask Mulan, I bet the pictures look fantastic.”

Emma’s hair hit his chin when she shook her head.

And not kissing her was some kind of insane idea that probably belonged with the several other insane ideas he’d come up with since Mrs. Vankald had cornered him just before the air hockey tournament and asked him several different questions that were almost louder than Arthur’s whistle.

Liam probably knew about that too.

Liam had probably sent Mrs. Vankald with an itemized list of all the things he’d been dying to ask Killian since they went to Colorado.

“You know I really did come over here with a purpose,” Emma laughed, pulling away to rest her forehead on his shoulder and she fit very well against him. Killian probably would have mentioned that if someone else wasn’t shouting for him and he could feel her laugh when he groaned loudly.

“That was why,” she mumbled, laughter clinging to the words when Killian started cursing whoever was calling for him to several different underworlds. “That’s not festive at all, Jones.”  
  
“Forget festive. You want to go home, Swan?”

She pulled back up, eyes distractingly green and bright and that might have just been the sunlight reflecting off the ice. He hoped they never played in a Winter Classic – he’d never be able to score.

“That seems a bit like flirting,” Emma said, tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek and Killian was nodding before she’d even finished the sentence.

“It absolutely is. Was that an answer?”  
  
“Cap,” Phillip shouted again and Killian closed his eyes, shoulders sagging under his own pads and snow that was really more like flurries and decidedly festive. “Were you going to shoot or what? Scarlet’s already talking trash and Emma had Kristoff bring out sticks.”  
  
He opened one eye to find Emma staring cautiously at him, nose scrunched and lip tugged between her teeth. “Swan…”  
  
“Well, in my defense, I didn’t know you’d be trying to get me home or attack kissing me on the ice.”  
  
“That’s just a general state of being.”  
  
“Jeez.”

“Did you plan something here, love?”  
  
Emma shrugged – or at least tried without really moving away from him and he wasn’t going to argue that...ever. “Kind of,” she said. “In that when we filled out all those forms we got the ice for the whole day because, I don’t know, Central Park is nuts and I wasn’t really counting on the freezing cold or the snow, festive or otherwise, but you guys are always practicing breakaways and I thought we could, you know, be competitive or whatever.”  
  
“Competitive?”

“Isn’t that how we all operate by default?”

Killian hummed, glancing over his shoulder when Liam shouted _hurry up little brother_ and El had her phone out, what sounded suspiciously like Anna screaming for him to _prove your worth_ from some mountain in Europe.

“I think that’s your cue, Jones,” Emma continued, pushing off him with a quiet _oof_ and there was snow on the ends of her hair. “Plus, as an added bonus, I’m totally going to wreck you.”

She was gone as soon as El actually whooped, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek that he was almost positive left a mark and Phillip grinned at Killian – a knowing look that didn’t do much to silence the ideas bouncing around the back corner of his mind.

“Not a word, Rook,” Killian warned, but Phillip just held up both hands and pressed his lips together.

“I didn’t say anything, Cap. C’mon, you’ve got to stop Scarlet before he tries to steal all the talent for his side.”

It took, approximately, two seconds to realize that Scarlet had already been ousted as team captain by a very enthusiastic Roland Locksley – who already demanded “Emma is on my team, Hook, you’ve got to pick your own people.”

“I think I can do that, mate,” Killian grinned and he couldn’t actually muss Roland’s hair when he was wearing a team-branded hat.

Liam hooked his arm around the kid’s front, dragging him back against his chest and lifting his eyebrows expectantly. “You know, Rol,” he said, not looking away from Killian when he started to grin like he was issuing some kind of unspoken challenge. “I’m definitely the most talented Jones on the ice, so if you want to win whatever it is you’re actually trying to win, I think you’ve got to pick me.”  
  
Elsa stuck her tongue out and Anna probably caused an avalanche on whatever mountain she was standing out. “That is just patently wrong, Liam,” Anna said. “Where’s KJ? Is there steam coming out of his ears?”  
  
“Nah,” Liam muttered. “He’s way too busy staring at Emma and trying to figure out how he’s going to trick Jeff when he used all his moves to impress the fans during practice.”  
  
“Wasn’t that the point?” Killian asked, leaning forward to drag a wayward puck towards his stick. “Hey, Banana. What mountain you conquering today? You break any limbs yet?”

“That’s rude, KJ. I hope you lose your edge when you start trying to impress Emma.” She glanced to the side, like she could see out the phone. “Where’s Emma? Hi, Emma!”

Emma waved in response, the flush in her cheeks getting a bit redder when Will moved next to her and there were too many phones and too many people, but it was snowing and they were all still laughing and it felt like something almost permanent.

Killian tried not to smile too much – certain someone would ask about that too. “Banana, if you shout any louder, you’re going to end up under a pile of snow,” he said. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Also, Henry you’re on my team, obviously.”  
  
Henry’s whole face lit up, but both Elsa and Will grumbled several creative curses under their breath. “That’s super lame, KJ,” Elsa muttered, hooking her chin over Robin’s shoulder. “You’re playing dirty and you don’t even know what you’re playing for.”  
  
“Glory?”

“The fact that you think any of us would be willing to play for just glory is absolutely adorable,” Ruby laughed, stumbling forward when she tried to skate. She reached both her hands out, glaring at Killian when he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her towards a faceoff circle.

“If not just generic glory, what are we playing for, then?” he asked. Ruby tried to make a drumroll noise with her tongue. It did not work.

“I mean glory’s not too far off the mark, actually,” Emma admitted. “But in addition to that we are playing for this fantastic, slightly dented because I forgot it was in my pocket, piece of plastic that Mer remembered to order earlier this week.”

It was a gold medal – or a slightly dented gold medal.

And she’d probably say something about attack kissing her and Anna was never going to let him live it down, would probably bring it up at every team-sponsored event or family gathering for the rest of their lives, but those things were kind of the same and Killian was moving before he’d really even considered it, one hand on Emma’s hip and his mouth on hers and Scarlet whistled.

“I love you,” Killian muttered, pointedly ignoring Anna when she yelled _this is gross, KJ_. Elsa shushed her.

“I love you too,” Emma said. “And Rol’s team is definitely going to be better than yours.”  
  
Liam made some noise that sounded like all the air had been forcibly removed from his lungs and Robin was only still standing because Elsa was using him as a human-wall. Will was doubled over.

“The gold medal is only for whoever wins Arthur’s critique,” Ruby said, doing her best to get the competition started. Mulan was still taking pictures. “We didn’t want to buy a whole team medals, so this is what you’re all fighting for.”  
  
“So why are we drawing teams exactly then?” Phillip asked.

“Because you have two teams in a game, right Rook?” He shrugged, shaking slightly on his skates when Mary Margaret collided with his side. It would be a miracle if they made it off the ice with all of their bones in tact.

“Arthur are you going to be fair about this?” Robin called. Arthur shrugged, still sitting on the bench with his feet propped up against the boards and his whistle clutched between his teeth. “So, that’s a no then?”  
  
“There are rules, Locksley,” Ruby continued. “You have to start from center ice, no trying to get more speed if you start from the other blue line…”  
  
“She’s talking about you, Cap,” Will interrupted, but his jaw audibly snapped closed when Ruby glared at him.

Ruby sighed. “I mean I am talking about you Cap, but, whatever, shut up Scarlet. So you start from center ice, you get no more than five moves, Arthur is going to count, and you can’t stop. Normal shootout rules. Jeff can’t come out of the crease. We all get one chance, if the puck comes off your stick, you’re screwed. Sorry, Rol.”  
  
“The puck isn’t going to come off my stick, Aunt Ruby,” Roland said, confidence rolling off him in waves and Ruby’s mouth quirked down.

“Of course it’s not, kid. Silly to think otherwise.”

It didn’t.

Roland skated from center ice with a stick that was far too big for him and a confidence that didn’t quite match up with his age and he beat Jeff with a deke just a few inches out of the crease that froze up the goalie and the entire Rangers roster.

“Holy shit,” Will breathed, his phone still held out in front of him and he must have charged it at some point. “God, sorry, Em, I swore on the stream again.”  
  
“Yeah, no, I think that was warranted,” Emma muttered.  
  
Roland grinned at them all when he spun back around, crashing against the side of the boards in a move that was just a bit _too_ Killian for comfort. “It’s your turn, Hook,” he called, skating back towards them and he didn’t argue when Regina tugged his hat back over his ears.

“But, you know, no pressure or anything,” Emma grinned. “Don’t cheat.”  
  
Killian winked at her – an absurd move that felt almost unnatural, but still managed to work a laugh out of her and that was kind of the goal, literal or otherwise.

He didn’t cheat, started at center ice as directed, and he didn’t lose his edge or the puck, but it was difficult to get any power on his shot when Emma yelled _Five hole!_ and it might have been the easiest save Jeff made all day.

Will and Robin were never going to stop laughing.

“You need some new moves, Cap,” Emma grinned when he skated back to the boards, handing off his stick to Phillip so he could use both hands to tug her towards his chest and he didn’t even mind losing.

That was some kind of first.

And Roland was really excited about his gold medal.

Will tried to get them to go to the restaurant once they finally got off the ice, but Killian shook his head and Emma shook her head and it only took a few seconds for him to get _that_ message, rolling his whole tongue out to express his displeasure.

“We’ve got less than twenty-four hours before we need to be on a plane to...where do we go next?” Killian asked, throwing his arm out for a cab.

“Carolina,” Emma said. “How do you not remember that?”  
  
“It’s been a long week, Swan.”  
  
“It’s not going to get any easier. The Games are going to be some sort of almost organized disaster.”  
  
A cab skidded to a stop in front of them and he didn’t let go of her hand when they slid into the backseat, smiling when Emma’s head fell against his shoulder. “You’ve planned it all, Swan. It’s going to be fantastic.”  
  
“You think we’re going to win?”  
  
“The country or you and me?”  
  
Her body shook against his and he wouldn’t have complained if she actually fell asleep. “Either or.”  
  
“All of the above, Swan on some kind of indefinite scale.”

“Smooth,” Emma murmured, but the word came out a bit like a yawn. “God, if we fall asleep as soon as we get home is that insanely lame?”

Killian made a contradictory noise, kissing her temple and squeezing his arm around her waist. “Nah. Sounds kind of nice actually.”

“Good.”

They did fall asleep eventually – but only after they made hot chocolate and drank hot chocolate and the kissing in the kitchen led to kissing in the bedroom and there was a pile of their clothes in the hallway when he woke up for his flight the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey internet, get ready for a real sappy AN. 
> 
> First of all, HAPPY NEW YEAR. Here's hoping 2018 is everything you want it to be and then, like, ten times more than that because you all deserve several different worlds and an entire goddamn universe. Secondly, I cannot thank you guys enough for the general incredible'ness of all of you over the last year. It has...been an adventure in 2017, but being able to smash keys and post things on the internet and then have you all enjoy them as much as you have has been an incredible feeling that I can't possibly put into words. Lastly, there is so much left in this verse and I have so much backlogged fic sitting in my Google Docs and the Blue Line sequel will start posting later this month. 
> 
> Come flail on Tumblr if you're down: welllpthisishappening.tumblr.com


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